chapter 21
Zayn and I had been getting along... better. Things had been substantially better these last few days than they had been when I had first arrived to England and I was absolutely rejoiced. He was obviously terrified of my blackmail and actually appropriately, but I didn't care for the reasoning behind his change in attitude; he was acting somewhat like a proper husband. We no longer quarreled over the smaller things; we were able to converse with one another without ripping heads and spilling blood.
The last I had seen Liam was the day before the last, when he had hand-delivered me a slice of apple pie he needed me to taste. He claimed that he wouldn't have come up to the West Wing if he didn't honestly believe that my taste palette was the finest measure of culinary excellence he had ever seen. I merrily accepted the compliment and the pie, grading him on the taste, presentation, and texture of the item he had prepared. After that visitation, I didn't see Liam again for a good time, though there were no harsh feelings between us; we just understood that we couldn't be together every minute of the day as friends.
Meanwhile, I spent most of my time reading and playing the piano, as usual. Zayn was working the majority of the day. When he would come back, we'd have light conversation over dinner, discussing the weather or the new maid or back pains caused by the stiff mattress. We were a merry couple.
It was a Tuesday afternoon when my father phoned me. I was genuinely surprised, as I hadn't heard from him in perhaps two weeks. He seemed worked up, nearly hyperventilating over the other line.
"Father, what is the matter? Is everything alright?" I asked, concern flooding over me as I found a chair in the living area and sat down cautiously.
His voice was choppy as he spoke quickly. "I've been under quite some stress."
"I know," I tried, "I've been keeping up with the papers."
Father sighed, calming himself down. "This is why you're going to be a magnificent fit."
I sat up straight, my back no longer slouching against the frame of the chair. "Excuse me?"
"Farah, I've been under tremendous stress trying to find a successor for Molavi Industries, as you must be well aware." He sucked in a deep breath of air. "After careful consideration, I've decided to give the company to you."
I almost dropped the phone from my hands as I lost nearly all feeling in my extremities. I opened my mouth to speak but words refused to come out. I was trembling at this point, alarm consuming my entire body. I had never been delivered quite a shock like this in my entire life. "W-why?" Was all I could muster.
"There is no one as qualified as yourself. Not only have you the proper educational background, but you've been with the company your entire life. I don't have a single steady employer at the Industry with such an impressive resume."
"When you put it that way..." I inhaled, still unable to properly process what was going on. My head was spinning and I felt sick.
"Farah, you are the perfect fit." Father said, firmly. "And I'm sorry I could only tell you such important news over the telephone, but I'm stuck in Dubai at the moment, running business with a Saudi emirate."
"Yes, I know you are." I replied numbly.
I heard him chuckle lightly. "You are so knowledgeable about Molavi Industries despite being in a different country. I don't think I've made the wrong decision, have you?"
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Had he? I pondered long and hard, trying to answer his question. "What did your advisors tell you?"
